night gliders

==============================

(alive in the light)
they began the morning as mortal souls
an adventurous buck and a slightly skittish gal
awake and alert
sun kissed in the warm daybreak

walking, walking, walking
tiny critters rustled in the dry brush, some brave enough to scurry across the dirt path. birds squawked and cawed and chirped. wings flapped, propelling the flight forward.

bright-eyed and bushy-tailed were the two explorers
unsuspecting of the impending circumstance traveling their way
unaware of the fleeting refuge
of an ephemeral sunlight

==============================

(deceased in the dark)
the full moon crept out of his hiding place
a damp and murky hole
stretched out, rigid, stiff

the boy/girl duo marched along
long since a golden shimmer stroked their cheek
silver moonbeams cast a colder hue

the creatures of the day are a more wild thing in the night. our innocent (maybe just naive) couple would grasp this important part of the story soon. they came upon a sweeping meadow. tall blades of sliver grass swayed with the wind. the air was perfumed with the dew of night blossoms and the sky was dotted with fiery gleaming stars.

standing in the vast openness they held hands, quite appreciative of their unity with the forest. a miniature bunny hopped into view, cocked her head to the side and stared. the slightly skittish gal took notice and nervously tugged the sleeve of the adventurous buck.

glowing evil eyes
a demon presence
an apparition, boogieman, thing who goes bump in the night

frozen, a chill ran down
a daytime fantasy turned nightmare
the hallucination of horror

==============================

on all hallows eve two harmless travelers were devoured. ravaged by the haunted ghouls and goblins of the night disguised as furry friends. the demon deer charged from the front and the bunny fiends attacked from the rear. vampire bats and crows swarmed above like ravenous locust.

draw in a deep uneasy breath
eye's closed
a final firm and enduring embrace

the adventurous buck and slightly skittish gal peered affectionately (with considerable fear) into each other’s anguished eyes. they silently conversed with their minds and most regrettably swallowed their frightening fate. the crickets quieted and the cool breeze came to a fast halt.

a distant screech crescendos into a sharp shrill shrieking and all at once
the bloody feast, carnival of carnage, smorgasbord of flesh
ensues

==============================

to die by your side
well, the pleasure the privilege is mine
oh, there is a light and it never goes out
there is a light and it never goes out
there is a light and it never goes out
there is a light
and
it
never
goes
out

Reminisce Alone

As Dracula flipped channels late on a Friday night, he tried to suppress the bitterness that welled up inside him. A lifetime of pride and presumption led him to this dark solitary place and a thousand regrets swam inside his soulless cavity.

His thirst for blood dissolved as the years passed
Unoccupied was his state of being
A conversation, even a brief exchange was his only current desire

In his youth he naively avoided thinking about the inevitable predicament he was presently in. His lush mane of jet black hair had thinned and become overwhelmingly gray. The pearlescent sheen his white fangs once had have tarnished into a dull and dingy yellow.

Detached in the dark on a Friday night, Dracula contemplated the direction his afterlife was headed. Although he was a solitary creature by nature, he wanted to give into the yearning for a connection and have purpose beyond blood lust. How he would arrive at that place was a mystery, but the desire alone was engaging and awoke an appetite that has been suppressed for too long.

For now he was at ease that he was genuinely considering the notion to change. For tonight that was enough.

Ghostie Love

I am the lonely ghost who pines and aches from afar. Too meek and shy to glide across the dance floor, I hover in the corner instead. "Dream big little ghost" I tell myself over and over and over again.

While staring into nothingness next to the punch bowl, the banshee (I've had my eye on) filled his paper cup with spiked punch. I glanced up. Our eyes met for just a second and my (dead) heart skipped a beat. I thought, "He's going to ask me to dance."

As the anguish in my chest began to fade, he took a step closer. His tightly closed lips started to part and he spoke, "Do you know what time it is?"

I glared at his face with blazing fury. The words traveled up my throat, trapped in my mouth. "It doesn't matter anymore." Confused, his lips parted again. Only a short gasp escaped. Silence.

He looked back down at the floor and knew. The moment was gone and the damage was done.

We both stood for another instant (it felt like an eternity). I turned away from the object of my affection and took a small step. "I'm sorry" he whispered.

Defeated I softly sighed, "I know"

Cognitive Therapy

if jesus is the pumpkin turned jack-o-lantern, then I am the seeds roasting in the oven. crack open the salty shell and devour my smoky fruit.

some might prefer an already hulled seed. an obsessive compulsive would disagree.

my ideal suitor has an intricate plan, a ritual in place for his seasonal snack. it will include carefully lining up the exact number of uncorrupted roasted companions and carefully creating an intimate experience with each one.

every fracture and snap of the hard outer seam will burst like a tiny explosion in his mouth. he will suck and chew with all the purpose and precision he can muster. he savors the flavor and texture, developing a mental snapshot in his mind to remember it by.

as soon as it began, the affair will be over.

it will appear to feel bittersweet, but he finds comfort knowing the indulgence will begin again after just a short interlude.

supernatural soap opera

i am the ghost with a broken heart. the senses do not fade in the afterlife.
oh. well.

attempt to mend the the breaks and cracks with magic needle and thread
tight stitch constrains the blood flow (what blood?)
now you're numb, comatose heart
sleep and heal

deadened in slumber
the scar tissue propagates
there's no place like home
there's no place like home

there's
no
place
like
home

click.click.click.

Behold, the glory of the Ghost: A Modern Love Story

Angel in the Underworld

Dracula had been secretly courting an American Angel. They met at an annual conference for the Federation of Supernatural Beings and really hit it off. He hides her in a condo on the east side of the Underworld. She likes the idea of being a kept woman, especially by a man of the afterlife.

She knows that eventually she'll have to leave, but for now it feels so good to be so bad. Dracula will be heart broken when he finds out his Angel has left him for Heaven.

He won't even be able to break the lease on the condo.

+++++++++++++++

Frankenstein accepted the offer to sublet Dracula's east side condo. He had been looking around awhile for a bachelor pad. (Things hadn't been going so well with the Bride.) The legions of angry villagers after Frankenstein were sometimes less frightening than she could be.

He just needed a place to get away from it all. Life hadn't quite turned out the way he thought it would. Maybe he'll suggest couples counseling.

Alimony wasn't really an option.

+++++++++++++++

The Ghost had recently started a part time cleaning service. Her haunting business had really slowed down and she needed some supplemental income.

Dracula had hired her to tidy up around the condo once a week. (His American Angel didn't have to lift a finger.) It was an easy job for the Ghost and she enjoyed making idle conversation with the Angel (even if she seemed superficial).

Things quickly changed once Frankenstein moved in. Stray pizza boxes and empty beer cans were scattered around the living room. Dirty socks were found stuffed in between the couch cushions.

The Ghost would have to raise her rates right away.

the witching hour is an excellent excuse to pine over lost love and drink too much red wine. he knew me when there was only a little grey in my hair. i can only try to imagine the jet black i used to know.

for a good time call frankenstein.
dracula already cornered the market on true love. too bad he was only interested in mortal women. his suave trickery works best on the ladies that can still bask in the sunlight.

is it too much to ask for a single ghost to receive a little love and attention? i guess it's not my lot in afterlife.

I am the invisible ghost. My bark has no bite.
I sit silently in the corner and watch the world glide by.

I am the solitary ghost. My dance card is blank.
The music cradles me like a warm blanket.

I am the ghost who pretends she is not alone.
It's a full time job, but I doubt I'll get a raise.
My performance review didn't go very well.